


Twice Surprised

by old_chatterhand



Series: Remote Controlled [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_chatterhand/pseuds/old_chatterhand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Hysterical Literature</p>
<p>Phil comes over to Clint's place for the first time and as if that wasn't exciting enough, he also brings his equipment from the video sessions.</p>
<p>A very happy Clint gets to play with the remote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twice Surprised

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing allochthon was kind enough to beta for me, so all remaining mistakes and inconsistencies are my fault.
> 
> Anyway, have fun :)

They’re a few weeks into their new life as a couple, when they plan for Phil to stay over at Clint’s place for the weekend for the first time. Clint has actually taken off the Friday prior so that he can prepare (read: clean). He has been to Phil’s place a couple of times now, and while it’s nothing special or out of the ordinary, it’s _nice_.  
  
Nice in a way that Clint’s just isn’t. He has never had a fancy home or a place where he stayed more often than occasionally. He actually stayed in some SHIELD quarters until Human Resources forced him to move out. The apartment he rented is still pretty bare and the few pieces of furniture are more often fourth or fifth than second hand.   
Anyway, it’s his, and he feels comfortable and safe there, even if the thought of Phil with his fancy suits and polished shoes seems out of place.  
  
Clint is on the subway on his way back from grocery-shopping and squeezed between an old lady with purple hair and an ugly dog on the one side, and a hipster with over-sized headphones and even more hair on the other, when Phil calls.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“Hi. How’s it?”  
  
Clint has to awkwardly tuck the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he can keep his grip on the grocery-bag.  
  
“Good, I’m good, on the subway now. I bought oranges for breakfast.”  
  
Phil loves freshly squeezed juice.  
  
“Great. Jasper agreed to cover for me, if I want to sneak out earlier, so I might actually come over around six-thirty, seven? If that’s okay for you?”  
  
Clint smiles. Jasper and Phil are absolute bros. Clint has known Sitwell pretty much as long as he's known Phil. When Clint was brought in, Sitwell was the one who picked up him and Phil after Clint was grazed by Phil’s shot and taken down.The two agents spent most of the drive bickering like an old married couple.  
  
“Clint?”  
  
“Right sorry, total birdbrain here. No, I mean yes, it’s cool if you come over earlier. I’m pretty much set.”  
  
“Great.” Clint can actually hear Phil’s smile, how cool is that. “Anything in particular I should bring along?”  
  
Clint nearly tries to shake his head before he remembers the precarious placement of his phone. Also, Phil can’t even see him.  
  
“Nah, don’t think so. Just, you know, the usual stuff.”  
  
“Right, okay, can do. Text me if something comes to mind.”  
  
“Sure. So, see you later?”  
  
“Yes, see you later. I’m looking forward--”  
  
Clint can hear Sitwell make fake retching sounds in the background and then a muffled ‘ouch’.  
  
“Sorry, Jasper has regressed back to elementary school. (‘Elementary, my dear Coulson’ comes from the background)”  
  
“You should get some discipline advice for misbehaving children. You know, start watching Supernanny or some shit.” Clint grins, fiddling with the leaves of the leek he bought (why the fuck did he buy leek??).  
  
“Supernanny is terrible,” Phil says indignantly. “Anyway, I really have to go. So, I’ll see you.”   
  
“I’ll see you when I see you.” Clint agrees and they hang up.  
  
Pretty much the same instant, Clint gets an idea that drives his blood into his face. He needs the rest of the trip down to his stop to debate with himself whether or not and if yes, how to ask Phil. In the end, he stops in a quiet corner in the subway station, out of the way of the other passengers and sends off a text to Phil.  
  
“you could bring along the things you used for... you know, the videos?”   
  
It takes only a few seconds for Phil to reply.  
  
“Way to break my concentration in the meeting. The camera isn’t mine, though.”  
  
Clint rolls his eyes fondly.  
  
“haha. not the camera (obvs.)”  
  
The reply comes almost instantly.   
  
“will do ;)”  
  
Clint will never get used to the fact that Phil uses emoticons. Frequently. His text-conversations with Sitwell (BROS) read like an Egyptian epics, all done with little pictographs.  
  
Anyway.   
  
Phil will bring his... equipment. Clint blushes again, in the relative privacy of public transport.   
  
That’s gonna be interesting.  
  
***  
  
Clint is playing Assassin’s Creed II on his console to pass the time and not go crazy in his nervousness, when his doorbell rings. He pauses the game and jumps over the back of the sofa to go open the door.   
  
Phil is on the other side, small duffel bag in hand and smiling slightly.  
  
“Hi again.”  
  
“Hi. Come on in.”  
  
Clint walks back two steps to let Phil in and closes the door behind him. Phil meanwhile has dropped off his bag on the side and now grabs Clint’s hand to pull him close for a small kiss by way of greeting.  
  
After they part, Clint looks at him a little surprised and then glances down at his hand.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
Phil has pressed a small device into his hand, made of white plastic. There’s three buttons on it and a small slide control on the side, a plus sign on one end and a minus on the other. Phil gives him a wry smile.  
  
“What does it look like? It’s a remote control.”   
  
“Oh, okay. Come on through, I’ll make some coffee.”  
  
Clint turns around and starts to walk down the hallway, towards the kitchen. He absentmindedly fiddles with the remote and, just for shits and giggles, presses all three buttons in rapid succession.  
  
Behind him, Phil stumbles.  
  
Clint turns around, surprised. His hallway doesn’t even have carpet, there’s nothing there to catch a shoe on.  
  
Phil has one hand on the wall to steady himself, head hanging down.  
  
“Wha..?” Clint takes an uncertain step in his direction. Phil raises his head and just looks at him as if saying _‘really?’_.  
  
Clint stares at Phil. Looks down at the remote in his hand. Above the top button, a small red LED has come to life. He looks back at Phil. Back at the remote. Very slowly, he moves his thumb and presses the middle button.  
  
Phil makes a sound best described as “Gnnneh.”  
  
Clint can’t help but laugh. “Seriously?”  
  
Phil takes a deep breath, straightens and steps up to Clint, movements very controlled. He crowds him against the wall and slides his hands down Clint’s sides to his waist, very carefully nips at the edge of Clint’s jaw. Clint happily lets him, even turns his head to the side a bit for better access. Blindly, he fumbles with the remote until he can slide up the controller though. Just a tiny bit. Just to see what happens.  
  
Phil bites his neck, hissing, then licks over exactly the same spot.  
  
“Barton.”  
  
Okay, that’s a warning right there. Clint slides the controller back to completely off.  
  
Phil, who had been pressed tense against him, slumps a bit. Clint wraps his arms around the man and kisses his ear.  
  
“You are seriously ...wearing it.”  
  
Phil blushes, high on his cheeks, and nods quietly. Clint can’t help but chuckle. It’s an amazing thought. Just - impractical, maybe? Not that he’s complaining.  
  
“Oookay. But - why the hell would you have it switched on?”  
  
Phil huffs a laugh and leans his head against Clint’s shoulder.  
  
“That-- that was not on purpose.”  
  
They stay cuddled up like that for a moment, with Clint rubbing up and down Phil’s back soothingly. Finally, he slides his hands further down and onto Phil’s ass.  
  
“Yeah? You sure?”  
  
It’s intoxicating, that’s what it is, that he only has to press a tiny button, move the controller up a notch and Phil writhes against him. Clint shuffles them around a bit, so that he can get a leg between Phil’s and press it against his crotch.  
  
Phil groans and moves to catch Clint’s mouth for a kiss. Clint gladly complies. He can feel how hard Phil is already and he himself is certainly not unaffected. This is fucking _hot_.   
  
Phil has moved on to grope Clint under his shirt, thumbing his nipples. Clint retaliates with pulling him even closer, so Phil can rub against him. The man is practically humping his leg already anyway.  
  
Also: moaning. Clint will never ever ever get enough of this sound.  
  
“Three.” As moans go, that one makes less sense though.  
  
“What.” Clint has to try hard to scramble a few brain cells together. Phil apparently doesn’t have the patience to wait for that and reaches behind to Clint’s left hand, twists his fingers between Clint’s and manipulates the controls himself.   
  
“Different. Vibes,” he pants into Clint’s ear, tongue hot and wet on the outer shell.  
  
“Don’t you. Oh God.” Clint squeezes his eyes shut. Phil has gripped both his wrists and pushes them up, presses them against the wall over Clint’s head, before he kisses him again.  
  
“Don’t you-- want to-- Uuuh. Move this somewhere else?”  
  
“Why should I?”  
  
“You - and I - might come in our pants, if we keep this up.”  
  
The look Phil gives him is pure mischief.  
  
“Wouldn’t be my first time.”  
  
Clint thumbs his head back against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut. Right. Jesus.  
  
They ... somehow manage to get Clint’s shirt off.   
  
Phil is still wearing his entire suit, for fucks sake.  
  
Clint can’t really do anything about it though, because Phil has moved to lick over Clint’s nipples. And suck on them like they’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. Clint still has an iron grip on the remote, but doesn’t really feel like he’s in control here. In all honesty: not a problem.  
  
Suddenly, Phil moves away from him (not away away, just not trying to take up the same space anymore), looks at him and says, ridiculously calm, although his voice sounds like pure sex:  
  
“I want to suck you off.”  
  
Clint can only blink. After a moment he gets enough brainpower back to nod.  
  
“Yeah. Cool. Please?”  
  
Phil chuckles low and raspy. And then he sinks to his knees in front of Clint.  
  
He nuzzles at Clint’s tented jeans for a moment, slides his hands over thighs, hipbones and then back to grip Clint’s ass.   
  
Clint retaliates via controller.  
  
Phil actually freezes for a moment, overwhelmed. He just pants against Clint open mouthed, before he surprisingly quickly and efficiently opens button and zip and slides Clint’s pants and underwear down in one go. (They both have learned from previous near-accidents and Clint quickly steps out of the heap of clothing and kicks it away.)  
  
Clint can’t help but shiver all over when Phil grabs his cock with one hand and tortuously slowly sucks him in.  
  
“Fuuuuuck, Phil.”  
  
It takes pretty much all his self control to not just thrust forward and fuck into Phil’s mouth. It’s hot and wet and _good, so good_.  
  
Clint scrabbles at the wall, at Phil’s shoulders, anything to give him a hold.  
  
Apparently, he also inadvertently triggers something on the remote still clutched in his hand.  
  
Phil suddenly gasps around Clint’s cock, trembles all over. He doesn’t move for a second, Clint’s cock deep in his throat, before he opens his eyes and looks up at Clint.  
  
They stare at each other.   
  
Then the corners of Phil’s eyes crinkle in amusement and he starts to suck in earnest. Clint’s vision nearly whites out.  
  
Phil is fucking competent in everything.  
  
It takes barely a few minutes and that strange, amazing thing Phil can do with his tongue, before Clint knows he’s nearly gone. He’s half curled over by now, hands trying to find a grip in Phil’s hair. Then Phil swallows, Clint’s cock deep in his throat.  
  
Clint actually shouts and tries to push at Phil, because he’ll come, oh god he’ll come so hard.  
  
Phil fucking _recoils_ , Clint’s dick slipping free from his mouth.   
  
Clint can’t help it. He comes all over Phil’s face.  
  
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Phil...” he starts to babble, overwhelmed, not knowing what to do.  
  
Phil just blinks at him, surprised and a little dazed, a shudder running over his frame.  
  
“I -- what? No, I--”   
  
Phil shudders again, eyes squeezing shut, whole body listing to the side a bit.  
  
“Gimme that.”  
  
“Wha..?”  
  
Clint doesn’t understand at first, but Phil paws at his arm and hand and - of course, the remote!   
  
It actually hurts to unclench his fingers and drop the tiny plastic thing into Phil’s hand. The slide is all the way up to the plus end and all three little LEDs are blinking in rapid succession, which Clint hasn’t seen before. Phil has to reach out a hand to steady himself on Clint’s right knee (he still has come all over his face) before he manages enough fine motor control to switch the thing off.  
  
Clint instinctively reaches out to catch him when Phil slumps forward and nearly brains himself on Clint’s other knee.   
  
“You okay?”  
  
“Yeah, think so,” Phil rasps, voice utterly wrecked. “I just needed that off before my eyes started to cross.”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
Phil laughs at him. “Don’t be, you just surprised me.”  
  
He runs a finger over his cheek and _licks the come off_. Clint nearly faints.  
  
“Twice, actually. What with the Moneyshot and the way you suddenly cranked up the vibrations.”  
  
Apparently, happy coincidences are this evening’s theme. Clint has no problem with that. Coming on somebody’s face without warning on the other hand could be taken badly.  
  
“You’re not mad?”  
  
Phil just shakes his head, smile crooked. He pats against Clint’s leg.  
  
“Come down here. I don’t think my knees will hold me yet.” Phil laughs again, and Clint can’t help but chuckle, too. He sits down, buck naked and Phil hasn’t even taken his tie off. He looks completely fucked out, though, his hair a mess, eyes bright and lips swollen and spit-slick. Clint grabs his tie and yanks him in for a kiss, come and spit and all.   
  
For a change, their kiss turns from hard and dirty slowly into sweet and gentle, until they’re simply holding on to each other, panting, mouths barely an inch or two apart.  
  
“I love you?” Clint offers.  
  
Phil smiles. “That a question?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Love you, too.” Now it’s Clint’s turn to smile. Then he frowns.  
  
“Did you even come?”  
  
Phil laughs again. “Oooh yes. Pretty much at the same time as you did, I reckon. That  button-mashing you did made things go from pleasant ‘good vibrations’ straight into overdrive.”  
  
Clint feels himself start to blush again. “I still can’t believe you came here with that thing... in. On. Whatever.” He gestures vaguely to the general direction of Phil’s crotch.  
  
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Still does.”  
  
“Honestly? It’s crazy awesome.”  
  
“Glad you approve. I’d like a shower and some... freedom, now, though, I think. Also, I remember something about coffee?”  
  
Clint gives Phil a quick peck on the lips before he answers.  
  
“You go shower, I’ll make coffee. Deal?”  
  
“Deal. Once I can make it off the floor.”  
  
Clint pushes himself up and offers Phil a hand.  
  
“Come on, you can do it. Natural born cocksucker like you.”  
  
Phil glares at him, but takes his hand and let’s himself be pulled up.  
  
“That’s a terrible pun. I obj--errgh.”  
  
“Aftershock?” Clint grins, while he puts a steadying hand on Phil’s hip and another kiss on his cheek. He can taste his own come on Phil’s skin, which is all sorts of weird and amazing. Phil can only nod weakly.  
  
“Shower. Seriously.”  
  
Clint carefully steers him in the right direction.  
  
“Towels are freshly washed. Shout if you need something.”  
  
“Orange juice would be nice, actually.”  
  
“One orange juice coming up, sir. Now, go, goddammit.”  
  
“Going.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Nothing feels out of place anymore.


End file.
